by Sara Foster
‘I’ll only put my foot in it again,’ Mikaela argued. ‘And pee them all off. Really, what’s the point?’
‘Look -’ Margaret put her wine down with some force so that liquid sloshed over the top of the glass and ran down the sides – ‘I can’t bear it any longer. Where do you think you get it from, Mikaela? Your mother is no saint; nor am I, for that matter. I ran off to America when I was barely eighteen, and your mother was barred from St Michael’s Church for life when she was still a schoolgirl, after she was caught doing something obscene with one of her boyfriends in the church hall toilets. Our mother despaired of us, I can tell you.’
Both Mikaela’s and Chloe’s mouths had dropped open.
‘Honestly,’ Margaret said, grabbing some tissue and wiping her glass, then picking it up and heading out of the room. ‘You lot imagine you are pioneers of being young and reckless. Well, think again.’
Chloe and Mikaela had watched Margaret leave, still dumbstruck. Then Mikaela turned to Chloe and wrinkled her brow. ‘That is one image of Mum that I really don’t want to hold on to,’ she said, then cracked one of her trademark grins.
Mikaela had stayed for what seemed like hours, a captive audience for Chloe’s mother, who wittered away, filling her niece in on every tiny development in the extended family over the last few years, while Chloe closed her eyes, tried to tune out the relentless voice and pretended to doze, beginning to think of ways that she might get her mother to leave, now she seemed to be getting her strength back. She definitely appreciated her mother the most in small, albeit regular, doses.
However, there was one thing she really wanted to do for her, and sooner rather than later. As evening fell, she had begun working on a letter to her brother. It wasn’t easy, but she wanted Anthony back in her life, and for him to understand their mother better too. She tried to explain everything as best she could, and, as she sealed the envelope, she hoped that was enough.
She smiled grimly as she thought of her closing line. ‘And in a few months you’ll have a new niece or nephew to meet,’ she’d written, while thinking that Alex would soon be the last person in her life to know he was going to be a father; but, when all was said and done, he only had himself to blame for that.
98
Before Alex’s lips even left hers, Amy knew he was saying goodbye. She pushed every ounce of herself into that kiss, wanting it to last forever, holding on to him, feeling the heat of him. Knowing it was for the final time.
Even though both their eyes were moist by the time they pulled away, Amy noticed that Alex’s face had lost a little of the haunted look. He was making the right choice. And, really, they both knew it. It was time for each of them to move on.
But actually walking away was never going to be easy. They were stuck now, staring at one another, drinking in their last few moments together, knowing there was so much still to say; so much to be left unsaid.
‘Thank you,’ was all Amy could manage.
Alex shook his head, his eyes still fixed on hers, unwavering. ‘There’s no need.’
Amy shrugged; then they were back to standing in excruciating silence. Before long she couldn’t bear it.
‘Make it quick, if you’re going,’ she said, trying to smile.
Alex nodded. He didn’t seem able to speak.
‘Go on,’ Amy persisted, the smile pinned to her face, betrayed by her eyes.
‘I still want to help,’ he said finally, his voice choked with emotion. ‘There will be another court case now, and you might decide you want to… you still need support…’ His voice trailed off.
Amy knew what he was referring to. In the darkness of the plane, he had asked her whether she would go looking for her little girl, and she had told him that at some point she probably would.
‘Al,’ she put a hand on his arm, ‘you can’t be all things to all people. Besides, I think that’s something I need to do on my own.’
He looked momentarily hurt at this, but nodded, went back to his chair, picked up his bag, and slung it over his shoulder. Then he came across to her again, and brushed his palm against her cheek, their eyes drinking one another in.
‘You’ll be okay?’ he asked in the same wracked voice.
‘I will.’
‘I think you will, too,’ he agreed, nodding, looking at her with such intensity that she had trouble holding his gaze.
He began to walk backwards a few steps, still watching her. She held her breath as she registered his every movement, praying for him either to come back or turn around. His last look was so passionate and lingering that she wondered if he were about to change his mind, but then he turned quickly and almost jogged away.
She sat down and stared at Alex’s half-drunk cup of coffee, the only sign now that he had been there. She had thought she would collapse at this point. But she didn’t. Her body felt surprisingly light.
She picked up her own bag, turned away from the table, and set off in the opposite direction.
She knew exactly where she was going next.
99
As soon as Alex was away from the airport concourse, he took out his mobile phone and speed-dialled the familiar number. He was relieved when the call was answered, but that quickly turned to alarm when he registered the voice that had just said hello.
‘Margaret?’ he began, his concern increasing by the second, knowing that her visits to the south were extremely rare. ‘What are you doing there? Where’s Chloe?’
‘Chloe hasn’t been well,’ she replied curtly. ‘I’ve been looking after her.’
‘Well… thank you,’ Alex said, embarrassed. ‘What’s happened? Is she okay?’
‘What do you think has happened, Alex?’ Margaret answered, then continued snootily, ‘Do you want something?’
There was no point, Alex thought, in letting his hackles rise at her tone, for her anger was completely justified. She had been looking after Chloe when that was his job.
‘Can you tell Chloe I called? Please ask her to call me on my mobile.’
‘Okay,’ she said, as if she were going to hang up, before he cut in.
‘Margaret, please tell her… tell her I love her.’
‘I’ll pass the message on, Alex,’ she replied neutrally, and then the line went dead.
After checking into a hotel, Alex spent two days trying to steer around Margaret before Chloe came on the phone, and it was another twenty-four hours before she agreed to see him. In one way he found it agony, having her so close and yet being so far apart, but it was also a relief to be able to focus all his energy on putting this right. Why, at the start of all this, had he shut out the person who had brought him back to life; who, since they’d met, he had never doubted was the future he wanted?
They arranged to meet at a café not too far from home, but far enough that they were unlikely to bump into their neighbours. Alex was there three-quarters of an hour early, and soon realised that it was a mistake to sit and wait for so long, as his nervousness quadrupled every minute that went by.
Then Chloe arrived. She looked thin, and tired, and beautiful. They stared at each other, Alex trying to transmit all his apologies and love to her; while she looked like she wasn’t sure whether to leave or sit down.
When she finally pulled out a chair, she said in a monotone, ‘So, you’re back.’
His heart sank. Her voice had no relief in it; the tone was more like resignation.
He nodded. ‘It’s over.’
She picked up a menu. ‘Great,’ she said as she looked at the food on offer, nonplussed.
He took a deep breath. Although he’d had a wild daydream that she might fall into his arms, he was sadly aware that this cold reception was no more than he deserved.
‘Have you been ill?’ he asked.
‘Just a bit under the weather,’ she replied, waving her hand as though to dismiss his concern, but she wouldn’t meet his eyes.
‘Chloe,’ he said, touching her arm to try to get her to look at him. ‘I’m
so sorry about everything I’ve put you through. I really am.’
Her eyes locked with his, and they were angry. ‘It’s too late, Alex. You should have explained yourself from the start – if not years ago.’
Upon hearing her say those three little words – it’s too late – he felt more wretched than he ever had in his life. He bowed his head and quickly wiped his eyes.
‘So why didn’t you tell me any of this at the beginning?’ she asked, her voice softening slightly.
‘I should have. But one of the biggest regrets of my life is that I abandoned Amy when she needed me most. I was too ashamed to tell you. And when she turned up, I felt she needed me again; and that this time I owed it to her to put things right. And it meant a lot to me, too, to see those men get caught. I thought I’d laid it to rest, but once Amy came back and we found out about the trial, it was like it had never gone away. I needed to see them convicted almost as much as Amy did, I think.’
‘But I’m your wife, Alex. I needed you too.’
‘Yes. I’m sorry.’
‘You know one of the things that hurts the most?’ Chloe said. ‘What makes you think that if you’d told me everything to begin with, I wouldn’t have understood? Why did you think that the only way through this was shutting me out, treating me like I was invisible, as though I couldn’t help you at all?’
He was dumbstruck. She was right. And he was just beginning to understand how big a fool he had been.
‘… Unless you still love her?’ she finished, still watching him closely. ‘And this trip, for you, has been about making a choice?’
He paused. The moment was pivotal, he knew; the answer critical. How could he be sure of getting it right?
He couldn’t, he realised. So he went for honesty, fervently hoping that this would fill rather than deepen the rift between them. He started from the beginning, explaining everything to her: the events that had taken place; the choices he had made; and the reasons behind them.
Chloe listened to it all, nodding now and again, emotions passing over her face like heavy clouds, intermittently closing down her features before they opened again a little as Alex continued.
She took her time when he had finished, letting everything he’d told her sink in.
‘Was I ever a replacement?’ she asked finally.
‘Never.’ He looked into her eyes, unflinching as she held his gaze.
‘When we met… at the station… you thought I was her…’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘I thought you were Amy at first. Until you lifted your head. And then I saw you. And, Chloe, I haven’t stopped seeing you since, not for a second. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Amy was my first love. She and I were caught up in a disaster; and it didn’t work out for us. But you are the love of my life. You are my future. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you right at the beginning what was going on. It was selfish – I was worried that if I told you what happened back then, the mistakes I made, then you would see me differently, and I would see myself differently too – and I love our life, I love us.’
‘This is… a lot to take in…’ Chloe said eventually. ‘But I’m sorry about what happened back then – to both of you – I just wish you hadn’t shut me out.’
‘I’m hoping you can forgive me for that,’ he told her, ‘and giving you a promise, here and now, that it won’t ever happen again.’
Chloe nodded. Smiled at him for a moment, then seemed to think better of it. But still, there was a light in her eyes, a fire and energy that Alex wasn’t sure he had seen before. Just having her in front of him and not being able to hold her was torture.
‘It’s going to take time, Alex,’ she said eventually. ‘If we’re going to try to get back to normal. We need to take it slowly and see what happens.’
‘Okay,’ he agreed. His whole focus from now on would be to spend every minute of every day putting this right. He was going to try to make Chloe happier than she had dared dream she could be. ‘Where do you want to start?’
She looked at him as if coming to a decision, then took a deep breath and said, ‘Right here, I think.’ To his surprise, she took his hand and pulled it forward, placing it over her stomach. She looked at him intently, conveying a knowledge that made his skin prickle as he realised there had been far more going on back home than he had ever imagined.
‘Alex, I have something to tell you,’ she began, and, in astonishment, he watched her lips moving, before there was a quick, shy flash of that lovely smile of hers, in answer to his own.
100
When Tess Duvalis opened the door, her expression was a blank of shock. She briefly put a hand out against the doorframe to steady herself, and then her face filled with joy and she moved swiftly towards her daughter, whispering, ‘You’re alive, you’re alive, thank god, thank god’. She caught Amy in a hug so fierce that it crushed the breath from her, leaving her gasping for air, as they sobbed their relief into one another’s shoulders.
Eventually, Tess let her go, and they moved into the house. Amy felt light-headed, floating.
There was so much that was unfamiliar, but the totality of the place was achingly like home. Although everything Amy was seeing was answering her questions, it was not until she made her way over to the mantelpiece that it sank in. There were old pictures of her on the wall – various school photos showing her metamorphosis from child to adult.
And on the mantelpiece, another photo – Amy, and yet not Amy.
A single photo. But it answered the one big question she hadn’t dared face for all these years.
Tess came up behind her. ‘She’s at school,’ she said.
Amy turned around and saw everything in her mother’s eyes – frustration, sadness, understanding, concern, love.
Amy’s voice was a sob. ‘I’m so sorry.’
Tess came and held her. ‘What for, my darling?’
‘I left her. I just left her.’
‘Yes, you left her. But you left her with a way home.’
A letter in the blanket. A number scrawled on her tummy in eyeliner, just in case the letter got lost. Such precarious links, but at the time it was all she had been capable of.
‘Listen,’ Amy’s mother said as she held her. ‘As soon as I got that call, I understood. I’m so sorry, Amy.’ She stroked her daughter’s hair.
Amy could barely get the words out through her grief, but gradually stuttered, ‘I’m the one who should be sorry.’
‘What for?’ Tess asked. She moved Amy away from her, holding her by the shoulders. ‘She was never a burden, Amy. She was a gift. I have been able to do things for her even if I couldn’t do them for you. It has been a precious, precious link between us while you’ve been gone.’
‘What’s she like?’
Her mother smiled. ‘Cheeky. Moody. Funny. Actually, she’s pretty much like you.’
Suddenly Amy forgot how to breathe again. ‘I need some air,’ she gasped, and rushed for the back door. She flung it open and sat on the steps, her eyes closed, concentrating on the in and out of her tired, aching lungs.
Her mother sat down beside her, putting her arm around Amy, staring into the distance. When Amy looked over, she saw Tess was crying silently. She rested her head on her mother’s shoulder as they sat there and let their feelings flood out of them.
After a while, in a small voice, Amy asked another question she hardly dared hear the answer to. ‘Mum, did Dad die because of me?’
Tess took a deep breath and let it out in a sigh. ‘Amy, of course your dad was very upset by what happened to you. But any number of things could have triggered the heart attack. He never ate very well, he drank, he’d only given up smoking a few years before. And although he was sad when you left, and wished he could have supported you more, he was always optimistic when he spoke of you. He knew you loved him; he understood why you left, even though he didn’t like it, and he was sure you would come back.’
‘That’s the crazy thing, Mum. I was on the v
erge of it all the time until he died. And then I just couldn’t.’
Her mother rubbed her back in reply.
As Amy looked down the garden, her gaze caught on something at the end. She jumped up and ran, until there it was.
Her garden. Their garden – in a tatty wicker basket, with new patches of moss and a few tiny flowers.
Tess came and stood behind her. ‘Beth thinks she looks after it,’ she said, a wry smile on her face.
Amy smiled back, overwhelmed just by hearing that name. Beth. Her daughter.
She fished around in the inside pocket of her jacket until she found what she was looking for, and then placed the wishing well back in the centre of the tiny garden. It settled snugly into the space it had been taken from nearly ten years ago. It looked like it had never left. She glanced briefly to the sky, then both she and her mother stared silently at the wishing well.
‘I’m scared to meet her,’ Amy whispered eventually.
‘I know, you’re bound to be,’ Tess replied. ‘Although, to be honest, she’s like a mini-whirlwind most of the time, full of questions and energy and activity – I’m sure she’ll suck you up into the madness straight away.’
Amy managed a small smile, then asked another of her endless awkward questions. ‘What does Beth know about me?’
‘That you’re her mother. That you had to go away and you will be coming home as soon as you can. That you love her.’
‘And what about… her father?’
Her mother sighed, tears shimmering at the edges of her eyes. ‘I’m afraid I’ve told her he’s in heaven. I didn’t know what to do – I thought that might be best.’
Amy nodded. ‘I think it was, at least for now,’ she said.
Tess continued quietly, ‘I prayed every day that you would call, so I could tell you I had got her. So you didn’t have to worry.’
Amy shook her head. ‘I should have, Mum, I know. But I didn’t dare. I always wanted her to be here, with you, but when I let myself think about it – that letter; the phone number – they were such tenuous links to you. What if the letter was lost, or not read properly – it was a foreign country, after all. What if the number was smudged, or they didn’t understand what it was? I knew if I contacted you and you didn’t have her, she would probably be lost forever. And if that had been the case, it would have truly, finally broken me; I would never have found my way back from it. So it was better to be in the dark and to hope. I’ve only really stopped blanking things out in the past few weeks, because I’ve been forced to confront them.’